Hook, Timeline and Stinker
by Drassil
Summary: Set between Episodes 3 and 4. When a familiar face appears on the Nemesis, Captain Blowhard finds herself in a race against time to stop reality changing forever.
1. The Bit Before the Opening Titles

**Foreword: **To put this story into context, I recommend watching Episode 3 straight before you start reading, and the beginning of Episode 4 straight afterward. The story makes reference not just to the Season 1 episodes but to the deleted scenes and to the background information on the show's website as well; so the better you know Starhyke, the more you will get out of reading this.

* * *

><p><em>My crew and I, of the Dreadnaught Nemesis, continue our mission in the 21st century to find the Reptids who have journeyed back from our time to disrupt human history. Meanwhile we are victims ourselves thanks to the Reptid device that detonated during our timeslip, releasing the emotions we previously suppressed, which we must now fight to keep under control. Our mission must not be jeopardised. We shall prevail. But I wouldn't mind just a little more 'me time'. I haven't had any chocolate for over half an hour: it's sulky computer this, molyport glitch that, and I'm TRYING to get through the Commander's report on the Oracle incident but man, the spelling is atrocious! 'Cropper' with an a? 'Hiked' with a y? Did he learn ANYTHING at the Officer Training Camp on Mars? Mars, there, now I'm thinkng about chocolate again. Oh why...<em>

* * *

><p>Reg Duck looked plaintively at the door. "Come out," he begged. "It isn't that bad."<p>

The female voice on the other side of the door made a noise of refusal.

"You're being silly and we've got work to do."

Reg's powers of negotiation, still in their infancy, had no effect. He turned to the person standing next to him.

"You try, Vilma."

Vilma smiled. "I know, Reg, I try really hard!"

"No, you silly tart. YOU try and get her to open the door!"

Vilma took a deep breath. "Please, please, please, please, please, please, please..."

Around the 29th "please" - not that Vilma was keeping count, or indeed could keep count - someone else arrived.

"What seems to be the problem here?" asked Captain Blowhard.

"She won't open the door, Captain," explained Reg, as Vilma caught her breath. "We've tried everything."

"Then I guess it's my turn. Stand aside." Blowhard stepped up to the door. "WU OOF!"

"Captain," came the grudging acknowledgement from Wu Oof's quarters.

"I said I'd put you in the brig if you couldn't stop assaulting the crew, you said you wanted an alternative, I gave you an alternative. So either you open this door and do a shift with -" She glanced at whatshisname and whatshername "- the maintenance crew as we discussed, or the brig it is. Alright?"

There was a pause before the door trundled open. In the doorway stood Wu Oof. She wore an expression of thunder and baggy overalls of pink and green. A smirk danced on the Captain's face. Vilma hid behind her partner and shook with laughter. Reg was a little turned on.

Blowhard cleared her throat. "Good! I'm off to the engine room. You're the boss now!" She patted Reg on the shoulder and walked off. Feeling very proud, Reg composed himself in the face of Wu Oof's glare.

"Right. We've got lots to do. There's a Reptid corpse oozing on the bridge, a lift that smells of Commander Cropper and a Fully Interactive Man caught in the rubbish chute." Wu Oof's door closed as she walked along the corridor with Reg and Vilma, barely containing her rage.

Reg remembered something else. "Oh, and the Vermillion Goober Hog's around here somewhere. It got into the instant deep-fried tea, which doesn't agree with it, so watch out for some very sticky-"

At that moment a squelching sound rose from the region of Wu Oof's shoe, accompanied by a bad smell. Wu Oof froze, pursed her lips and began to quiver.

Vilma looked puzzled. "Some very sticky what, Reg?"

Wu Oof was kind enough to provide a loud, clear answer. Never had a four-letter word resounded through the Nemesis quite like that.

STARHYK

... ... .. .. E


	2. The Episode Gets Started

Taking care where he trod, and even more care not to be noticed, the investigator moved through the department store. He'd got here as soon as he'd heard, but it wasn't soon enough. Witnesses were retracting their statements and claiming forgetfulness; the clean-up and repair crews were working with a pace and efficiency he'd never seen before; and among those who'd been reporting and speculating on the internet, a bizarre kind of apathy had set in. Like the assault in Frank's Café, like the disintegration of the Hubble Space Telescope, the whole business was just fading away. Whoever or whatever was organising this cover-up - the Secret Service perhaps, or a higher and truly secret service - the investigator knew he couldn't stop it. But if there was just one trace, one fragment of truth not yet swept under the rug, he was determined to find it.

No. He'd been spotted by one of the police constables. The one time he didn't want them to keep their eyes open. Oh well, he'd just have to be here cognito and hope he could nose around without being held to account. He showed his ID to the PC and exchanged nods.

"Typical, in't it? Some movie special effects promotion goes wrong and we have to sort out the mess." They'd got to him too. Maybe they used hypnosis. Or bribed him with pick and mix. "Even you on your day off, Sir!"

The investigator gave a small smile. "That's the job. Carry on, constable." He glanced around the room. The racks of clothes were looking pristine. There were no clues to be found here. Passing the PC, he slipped into the murky corridors beyond.

* * *

><p>Sally stood to attention and gave her hair a quick brush with a wrench, greeting the Captain as she entered the room.<p>

"Good evening, Popyatopov. So, you're giving the timeslip drive a tune-up?"

"Yes, Captain. I want it to be in optimum condition for whenever we need it."

"Sally," came the voice of the ship's computer, "I regularly monitor the efficiency of all engineering systems. You don't have to worry. Wouldn't you rather be in bed?"

Sally wouldn't. Her room was a lonely place, and her experience with the Fully In(ter)active Man had left her, well, deflated. Staying up all night with the engines felt like a much better option.

"When you put me to sleep, Computer, I'll go. But the Captain asked me to show her the timeslip drive when I was next working on it, and..."

"And here I am! So what do we have here?"

Blowhard pointed past Sally at an open hatch behind which a stream of bright pink particles was rushing by.

"Those are danijons," the chief engineer explained. As she went on to describe how the danijon flow stabilised the white hole component of the timeslip system, she felt... she wasn't sure, but it felt good. It was pride. When she developed timeslip technology compatible with an Admiralty starship, as so many before her had been unable to do, it was rightly recognised as a towering achievement, but not one in which she could take any pride - because like all possible emotions, it was suppressed. It was simply treated as the use of her abilities. But now she could appreciate what she had accomplished, and she liked it. Yes, a man would be nice. More than nice. But he could wait. Tonight she had her drive, quite literally, and the respect of her captain, leaning in close to observe.

And then her drive sneezed.

Blowhard staggered backwards and Sally was sent sprawling as a sudden spray of danijons hit them through the open conduit. The particles glittered like tiny gems all over their uniforms and skin and twinkled like implausible join-the-dot constellations in their hair.

"What was that?"

"Sorry, Captain. That was a random surge. I forgot I'd switched off the surge derandomiser while I was recalibrating the secondary dark matter intake regulator so I could..."

"Would you mind clicking your fingers please, Captain?"

"Shut up, Computer." Blowhard had already considered that in fact. But for once she did need to know more. "Are they dangerous?"

"Oh no, quite harmless, they just take a while to fully degrade. They're already losing luminescence." She held up her arm to Blowhard. The danijon jewels were fading out of sight.

"Where's your assistant tonight?"

"I'm fine without Christian's help," retorted Sally, not realising how petulant she sounded. "And anyway, he's still busy in the molyport room. You're welcome to drop by and take a look."

"I think I will," replied Blowhard. With any luck, he wouldn't have as many moodswings in store.

* * *

><p>Christian turned as he heard footsteps. He couldn't decide whether or not he was disappointed that it was the Captain. As he rose his hand to salute, Blowhard's gaze was drawn to his face and the prominent scratches running down the left cheek.<p>

"Woah! Who clawed ya, Christian?"

"It was Wu Oof. During combat training."

That wasn't strictly true. Wu Oof, yes; combat training, not exactly. He'd gone to Wu Oof for something else, in the hope of taking his mind off someone else. It hadn't worked.

"I should've guessed! Well, Wu Oof won't be doing any more of that for a little while."

It should have worked. He wanted it to work. But the more Wu Oof told him what she was going to do to him, the more he thought of...

"Sally told me I'd find you here. What are you doing?"

He'd felt Wu Oof's fingertips turn into fingernails and knew he couldn't carry on. As long as there was hope, even false hope, he couldn't let Wu Oof or anyone else take the place he wanted S to take. He tore himself (and his shirt) away, returned to his quarters, tried to sleep but couldn't and went to find some work to do.

"Trace removal. We've been scanning the last mission site for anything we left behind and extracting it."

He'd found the night shift engineer on molyport duty and offered to take over. He told Sally but she didn't thank him. Couldn't she have said thank you? Isn't that what people with emotions did? His scratches felt sore but he wasn't going to get them treated. It took his mind off the deeper hurt.

"Very good. What's your progress?"

"We're still having some trouble with the molyport, and all the people around the landing site have been interfering with the scans, but most of the landing party equipment is accounted for and retrieved." Christian turned to the control panel. The latest scan had picked something up.

* * *

><p>The investigator couldn't believe it. Half in shadow behind a door, it was almost as if it had been waiting for him. He checked behind him: the corridor was deserted. Keeping his eyes fixed on it, he walked over.<p>

* * *

><p>"Christian, have you seen my 14F flux chronometer?"<p>

Christian felt his stomach lurch as Sally entered the molyport room. He gave a small involuntary gasp and took a breath to cover it.

"Erm, I..."

Sally was distracted by the screen. "What's the scanner picked up?"

"A firearm."

Blowhard wasn't surprised that one had been lost in the chaos of the mission, but she was concerned.

"Then molyport it now, Mr. Christian."

Christian hesitated. "The scanner picked up a life sign within 5 metres."

"Is it still there?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not reading him or her now, but we had a scanner malfunction earlier, so I..."

"Well if some guy sees a gun from the future disappear into thin air, it's still better than letting him take it home. We need that gun back now."

Christian nodded. He could feel Sally watching him as he tapped at the panel.

* * *

><p>The investigator's fingers crept over its surface, as if each wanted to make its own investigation. He should have pocketed it straight away and left, but he was fascinated. He'd never seen one like it before; but if that was a grip, and that was a barrel, then it had to be...<p>

* * *

><p>"What's taking so long?"<p>

"We lost the lock. Reestablishing..."

* * *

><p>It felt warm. Recently used? But how did it fire?<p>

* * *

><p>"Molyporting now."<p>

Three shocked faces stared at the molyport chamber. One shocked face stared back. Forgetting what was in it, a hand tensed. A gun fired. A throat groaned. Legs gave way.

Pushing past a startled Christian, Belinda and Sally rushed over. They held the man as his self-inflicted wound took him from consciousness. And they kept staring. Because on top of everything else, that 21st century face of his bore an undeniable resemblance to their 31st Century Admiral's.


	3. The Next Bit

"Captain, it's... it can't be! It must be a Reptid."

"Whoever he is, we won't know anything if he dies. Blowhard to medbay."

"Taylor here," answered a female voice over the intracom.

"We have a casualty, serious gunshot wound, we're bringing him over, please stand by."

"Yes, Captain."

"Thank you, nurse."

"I'd rather you called me 'Doctor', thank you," replied Taylor in an irked tone, and signed off. Perhaps Striker had been playing a reversed game of doctors and nurses.

Blowhard became aware of a supremely annoying noise that sounded like a yodeller's sped-up rendition of The Lion Sleeps Tonight. She'd never keep a clear head if it carried on. "Blowhard to bridge. The situation is under control. I'll update you soon, but you gotta turn off that intruder alarm."

"Right away, Captain," replied... Vilma? She turned up in the oddest places. Then again, aboard the Nemesis, it was hard not to. The alarm was muted and Blowhard gave a small nod of approval.

"Do you mind? I was listening to that," grumbled Daphne.

"You two," Blowhard addressed Sally and Christian, "help me with the... with him." With an engineer at each leg and the captain at the shoulders, they lifted the investigator and carried him out into the corridor. There they met Wu Oof, still resplendent in her overalls. Offering to help, she took an arm and joined the stagger towards the medbay.

A silence fell upon the group that was even more awkward than their movement. Sally was grimacing; Wu Oof was focussed; Christian was trying not to look at either of them and he felt sick. The captain thought back to the battle before the timeslip, when her first officer fell dead before her eyes. Aside from the bad timing, and the years of little-plastic-rod-pulling expertise he took with him, she couldn't have cared less. She literally couldn't. But now it looked like she might see another death on board her ship - and see it with emotions. How different would it be? It didn't bear thinking about. She decided to distract herself with small talk.

"So, Wu Oof, how's the work going? Bet you feel like you've been doing it your whole life!"

"I have."

"Ha, that's the spirit!"

"And it has always been my honour to serve." Despite the odd circumstances, Wu Oof was flattered by the captain's interest in her. "Ever since I was awarded a position on the Nemesis as your maintenance correctional facilitator engineer, I-"

"You're really getting into character, Wu Oof," remarked Sally admiringly. If she wanted one person other than Cropper to notice her, to respect her, it was Wu Oof. "At this rate you'll be giving up your security chief role!"

"I don't know what you mean. I did dream of being a chief of security, once upon a time, but the Admiralty saw a different purpose for me."

Blowhard frowned. Wu Oof wasn't joking around: she believed what she was saying. Had the bleach gone to her head? The Admiral, the man whose lookalike she was holding, had handpicked her. It was on record. I can't have a delusional security chief on top of everything else, thought Blowhard. Time to settle this.

"Computer. Access the vid of Admiral Lenovo recommending Wu Oof as chief of security, relay to my gauntlet and play."

There was a pause before Daphne replied, "I have no record of that file. What shall I search for next? Commander Cropper's oath of celibacy?"

The group crossed a corridor junction. "Don't be a smart-ass," snapped Blowhard, "just play the file."

"I prefer the term 'genius backside', and I really don't have that file. I've never had that file. Cross my hard drive, Belinda."

The captain sighed, not believing a word of it. Not wanting to believe a word of it. But something made her want to persist. She needed to see that face. "Do you have the vid of the Admiral authorising our mission?"

"Of course I do."

Good. This was a priority file, edit-proof and deletion-proof. This should put at least some of the day's nonsense to rest. "Then play it please."

Blowhard angled her wrist as her gauntlet's display sprouted into life like an instant digital sunrise. She prepared herself for the Admiral's words, the words that had marked the start of this whole crazy adventure.

"The Nemesis is authorised to travel back in time to locate and destroy the Reptids' mothership before they can execute their plans to destroy Earth."

But the man saying them, light-skinned and balding in a particularly Picardesque sort of way, was not the Admiral.

"Stop playback. What the hell is this?"

"It is Admiral Pin," replied Daphne, "giving the Nemesis its mission authorisation. You were there. I'm sure you remember, unless all that chocolate has turned your brain into an Easter egg."

The captain realised. And Sally realised. And Christian realised. And they were worried as hell. They stopped moving. Belinda turned to Wu Oof.

"Wu Oof, that'll be all. You can return to your duties."

"Have I failed you, Captain?"

"No no, you've done sterling body-schlepping work tonight. But I need to review the situation with Sally and Christian. Thank you."

"I know my place," sighed Wu Oof, and passing Blowhard the arm she'd been holding, she trudged off. Once the corridor was clear, Blowhard spoke.

"So just to get things straight... since it does get kind of insane round here... are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That Admiral Lenovo never lived, because this is his ancestor here and he's about to die?" responded Sally. "And that this is bad?"

"We know this, all three of us, but Wu Oof didn't and Daphne didn't," commented Christian. "We're -" He turned his face towards Sally. "- special. But why?"

Belinda had worked it out. "That-that shower of particles, the danijons. It hit Sally and me, then we brushed some onto you in the molyport room..."

"...And then the man came on board, shot himself and changed the timeline, but we're protected from the changes," finished Sally. What she didn't understand was how the loss of any one admiral be of much consequence, when everyone knew that the Admiralty operated under the guidance of the positronic mainframes on Earth.

"All the big decisions are made by the Admiralty as a whole, like our timeslip, which is why losing Admiral Lenovo hasn't undone that," explained Blowhard. "No single individual in the Admiralty would be given that much power. But Lenovo has an exceptional analytical mind and the Admiralty's trusted him with more freedom than any officer who's gone before. A lot of what makes our ship and crew what it is... what it was... is down to him."

"Like Wu Oof getting picked as our security chief."

"That's right." Belinda looked down at the unconscious face of her lost future. It needed to be found again. "We've got to fix this. We came back in time to stop things being changed, and that's what we're going to do. An innocent man's dying here. Come on."

And soon they reached the medical bay, entrusting the investigator to the care of Nurse Beach, Doctor Taylor and Doctor Striker. If they could save his life, they would rescue a timeline.


	4. Into the Middle

While the medical staff operated, Blowhard and the engineers were forced to wait outside in the corridor.

"Christian... What happened to your face?"

Christian looked up at the sound of Sally's voice. It had taken her long enough to notice, even if she did sound concerned. No, probably just curious. Who could tell the difference? "I tripped over and fell... on a hand," he mumbled.

"Did someone hurt you?"

He felt a knot in his stomach and said nothing. No one spoke until the silence was broken by a huge belch through the medbay door. It opened to reveal a smiling Striker.

"That was me," he declared. "I've been trying something called 'the Pepsi Challenge'. I think I'll incorporate it into the next round of crew physicals. He beckoned the trio in. "I couldn't help noticing that the patient looks an awful lot like Captain Lenovo."

'Captain'? Well that's not right. A bad sign.

"Or Admiral Lenovo as he is now of course." Phew. A good sign. "I remember meeting him when he was overseeing the S.E.R.C.H. redevelopment programme. I made the shortlist, you know. Just imagine, a holographic image of me aboard every dreadnaught, standing tall..."

"Doctor, the patient."

"The who? Ah yes. He's certain to live."

Blowhard exhaled hard with relief.

"As long as we give him a shot of dribblazine within the next ten minutes. Otherwise he's certain to die."

Blowhard looked shocked. "Then give him a shot, quickly!"

"Ah. Unfortunately there's no dribblazine here. Some was lost when the Reptid device was detonated, some was stolen by Rogan, and the rest was used up in the last medbay cocktail evening."

"Why wasn't I informed?"

"You were. You never RSVPed."

"No, about the dribblazine shortage!"

"We've been synthesising more, but it won't be ready for another hour at least."

So that was that. Soon a man would be dead, taking a thousand years of unborn descendants and a key piece of the future with him. All for a cocktail, whatever that was. The captain was not looking to living with the guilt.

"Wait a second." Christian remembered something. "We keep aidkits in the shuttles. Will they have dribblazine?"

"Yes!" replied Nurse Taylor. "I stocked the kits myself."

"And the shuttles have independent molyports," added Sally. "We can treat him and return him to Earth straight away without any malfunctions." It looked like the timeline could be corrected after all.

"Then let's do it!"

"Captain! There's a time and a place," quipped the innuendo-sensitive medic.

Blowhard spared a moment to roll her eyes. "Doctor, I know we probably shouldn't move the patient, but we have to risk it. Is he awake?"

"He's barely conscious. He should be able to stand, and walk with support, but don't subject him to anything strenuous."

Sally stepped towards the captain, holding Christian by the elbow. He kept his mixed feelings about this to himself. "Captain, we're with you."

"Good."

Belinda got the engineers to lift the investigator off the medibed to his feet and, with their arms round him, to guide him to the exit. He was too groggy to register what was happening. After some final instructions from the doctor as to how to give the dribblazine shot, and confirmation that he'd given the patient an anti-mem to prevent him remembering any of his time with the Nemesis crew, they headed off. As the medbay door shut behind them, Striker turned to the others.

"Do you think they'll make it in time?"

"It's not looking good," replied Doctor Taylor.

"Oh well, we did what we could. Now time to get back to my examination of Nurse Beach."

"Must you, doctor?" sighed the nurse.

"Not if you don't want me to. Doctor Taylor can examine you instead." Striker grinned - then belched. "Oh! That one made my nose go all fizzy."

* * *

><p>Hastily ending his massage of the captain's chair, Cropper looked over as a figure entered the bridge. "What is it, Doctor Striker?"<p>

"Commander, may I remind you, again, that I am not the doctor." The figure, who looked identical to Striker in his younger days, pointed to his forehead, where sat a letter H.

Cropper felt suitably embarrassed: why was this the emotion he encountered so often? "Yes, Hologram. Do you have a report?"

"I've been reviewing the data gathered by Doctor Striker's scan of our 21st century guest. Clearly he couldn't risk telling you over the intracom, but the man is not human. He is Reptid."

Daphne would have gasped if she'd had the subroutine to do so. "That isn't true. I-"

"Quiet, Computer." Cropper had decided a while ago that the Hologram was far more reliable than Daphne. Less seductive, but definitely more reliable. After all, how could she have missed this? "The Reptids' polymorphic body cloaks must be even more advanced than we thought. That means..."

The Hologram was only too happy to complete the sentence. "That means that if the Captain, Sally and Christian are with him, they are either disguised Reptids too - or traitors."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions. We'll send Security to pick them up and get to the bottom of this."

"I do hope it's a nice bottom," quipped Vilma. "Androids have the smoothest bottoms," replied her android side. "Yes I do believe they do," agreed Vilma.

"Just scan for them, please Vilma."

"Yes, Commander. They've left the medbay and appear to be en route to the shuttlebay."

* * *

><p>"Woah!"<p>

Blowhard recoiled as the lift opened to reveal the stocky figure of a security guard. She squinted around him, confirming that the door she needed was at the end of the corridor. "Would you excuse us, please? We need to get the shuttlebay urgently."

"No."

For the first time in an undistinguished career, Alan Hole had managed to stun someone. Unfortunately it was his Captain, into silence, and it was all too brief. "Uh-uh, the answer's 'yes, Captain'."

"I'm under orders to take you all to the brig. Including the Reptid." Hole pointed at the investigator, whom Sally and Christian were holding up.

"This is not a Reptid, you... unappealing man!" exclaimed Sally.

"And if he were, wouldn't it be better if we saved his life with the aidkit in the shuttle before putting him in the brig?"

Hole thought about this. At least, he tried. The trouble was, he was unintelligent and he was hungry, and these everpresent qualities tended to conspire against him when thought was needed. Unable to do anything useful with his head, he shook it. "I've got orders. We're going to the brig." He took a step closer to the others, well and truly blocking their exit from the lift.

The Captain reined in her annoyance. "You know, standing there like that, you look awfully lonely. Where's the affection? Where's the romance, baby? You oughta try a little tenderness. And you know where you find tenderness? In a pair!"

Belinda kneed Hole between the legs. He was immobilised. Shoving him aside, she advanced down the corridor with her companions. But as they approached the door, another guard appeared.

"Heeey!" Blowhard greeted him. "So we did pick up two humpback whales after all! You want a turn, Popyatopov?"

Sally did, and delivered the kick of her life to Dick Wang's belly. Two encores later and she'd finally got a man to lie down for her. Resuming the serious business of saving a timeline, the she worked with Christian to override the door lock and the quartet headed through to the shuttlebay.


	5. More of the Middle

While Belinda waited with the investigator, Christian and Sally made for one of the shuttlecraft. The smooth silver and sleek symmetry of its exterior were of course the result an entirely practical and emotionless design process: but how beautiful it looked. With a genteel yawn, the shuttle door opened and the engineers climbed in.

"Oh who forgot to unpack the shopping?" cried Sally, shoving supermarket carrier bags out of the way. Soon she found the aidkit and rushed it to Blowhard, who gave the investigator a shot of dribblazine as quickly as her hands could move. She waited. Dreadnaught, someone once pointed out to her, meant one who dreads nought, who fears nothing. Here she was, captain of captains, cradling the head of a stranger, wanting nothing more of him than to live, and fearing nothing more than him not. And if he died, her undefeated warship would fall and never even know.

"Belinda..."

"What is it, Computer?"

"I've been told not to talk to you and I don't know what you're doing, but I know it's important and I want to help."

A thud echoed across the shuttlebay. It wasn't clear what had caused it, but it could perhaps have been a heavily-built security guard throwing himself against a locked door in an uninspired attempt to force it open, especially if the subsequent groan was anything to go by.

"Make sure that door stays sealed," the captain ordered the computer. "Super-encrypt the lock. And lock the molyport room too so they can't molyport in here. And thanks, Daphne." Blowhard returned her attention to the investigator. She watched; she waited; she hoped.

Inside the shuttle, the engineers had powered up the craft and were working to get its dormant molyport operational. Admiral Lenovo would only truly be saved when his ancestor was returned safely to Earth to continue his life.

"Location coordinates now transferred over from the molyport control station," Christian informed Sally. She didn't reply. Of course she didn't have to - she was the boss and she was busy - but it hurt. He added, "I'll verify them."

"Alright, Christian. Carry on."

He'd wanted gratitude, but acknowledgement would have to do. He looked back down at the panel - and stopped cold. "Sally... Sally..."

The chief engineer turned as her assistant held up his hand. It was fading.

"The danijons are degrading. You had less exposure than the captain and me so it's happening to you first. You're losing your protection against the changed timeline. When all of them on you have degraded..."

"...I'll take my place in the altered reality as if I'd been there all along. I won't know I wasn't." The effect was spreading up Christian's arm.

"Then I'll transfer some of my danijons." Sally rushed over to Christian with her arms outstretched. His eyes widened. In the most painful moment of his life, he stepped back before she could touch him.

"No. You need them for yourself." His legs were beginning to fade. "You'll manage without me. I'll be alright... just... I won't be me."

Christian wanted the final thoughts of his existence to be of S. She was looking at him with... well only she knew. He looked at her and saw what he wanted to see: an amazing woman, with a heart that was growing to match her brain, who cared about him. Even before he got emotions, he would notice her absence and welcome her presence and the purpose it brought him. The Reptid nanovirus hadn't changed that; it had enhanced it. Final thoughts weren't enough: final words had to be for her too. Eventually she'd fade too and forget, but maybe the universe would remember for them somehow. His whole body was fading now.

"Sally, before I go I have to tell you..."

"Tell me what?"

Damn. He didn't know how to say it. The feelings were so new that he didn't have the vocabulary. One word might be enough but he didn't know how to use it. He was panicking. His time was nearly up.

"I know I... get in your way sometimes, and... I know I... babble on five... minutes longer than I should when I answer a question but... it's because I... oh, I wish you could see right through me!"

And with that he vanished. Sally's mouth hung open.

Across the shuttlebay, Belinda was still watching and waiting and hoping. And then the man stirred.

"He's alive!" she gasped. She saw the chief engineer approaching with a troubled look on her face. "What is it, Sally?"

"It's Christian. His danijons degraded and he dissolved into the altered timeline. We've lost him. And..." Seeing him go like that, she'd realised. She'd realised what he truly meant to her. But it was something so new and she wasn't sure she knew how to express it. She found the right word. "...He was my friend, Captain."

"We'll get him back. We'll get everyone back. But if his danijons wore off then we need to do it before ours do."

"Yes, Captain. It'll take me a bit longer to prepare the molyport on my own. I suggest we-"

An ominous fizzing sound could suddenly be heard. Daphne explained what it was but Blowhard had already guessed: they were burning their way into the shuttlebay, without so much as an "open this door".

"We can't hang around here," Blowhard decided. "Computer, if there's a lock on the outer doors, override it. We're taking a shuttle out."


	6. The Middle Continues

With the agility of a tiny fish, the shuttlecraft darted this way and that as the shark-like Nemesis targeted it with all the mercy of its namesake goddess. Blowhard was piloting; Sally was continuing her work on the molyport; both were keeping an eye on the investigator, who was slumped in the molyport alcove. With alarm, they had noticed that he had started to become ever so slightly transparent, and were periodically hugging him to transfer their danijons and keep him there. If he faded away, there would be no place for him in the changed timeline.

The captain swung the shuttle towards the Nemesis, hoping that if she stayed close, they wouldn't risk using the blasters and hitting themselves. She was wrong. After several misses, a direct hit rocked the compact craft.

"Shields holding."

Sally was exasperated. "I'm working as fast as I can, but if we take any damage to the molyport, we're in trouble."

Belinda hailed the Nemesis, and Cropper's face was soon staring at her from a screen. "Excuse _me_, I thought the phrase was 'shoot first, ask questions later', not never!"

"OK, Captain, what are you doing?"

"It's a timeline thing. You wouldn't understand. How about you give us just a few minutes to sort a couple of things out, then we'll bring back the shuttle and tell you all about it over a nice cup of coffee?"

"Sorry, Captain, you're clearly unfit for duty, and if you don't surrender now then we will continue to use force."

"Oh screw you, Cropper. And not in _that_ way. That's never gonna happen in any reality. Blowhard out." The captain arced the shuttle away from the dreadnaught, spitting a few shots at it as blasts rained back. The shuttle shook as another blast found its mark, crippling the shields and engines. The captain could smell smoke.

"Are you alright back there, Sally?"

"We're ready to molyport him, Captain! But..."

Belinda turned. Sally's arms had disappeared. The investigator was fading again too. She smiled bravely.

"I think I can still do it."

Kneeling and leaning towards the molyport control panel, she tapped at it with her nose. She looked over as the molyport alcove shone brighter. Then she looked at the captain, prouder than she'd ever felt.

"Goodbye, Captain."

"So long, Popyatopov." And Sally was gone.

As the investigator was engulfed in light, another shot hit. The shuttle spun and the lights flickered. Belinda was thrown to the floor. She saw that the molyport was empty. Whether the investigator had made it back or not, her fate was sealed. She tasted something that she assumed was blood. In the dusky glow of warning lights, she pulled herself to her feet. One screen showed the Nemesis; Cropper had reappeared on another. Belinda gave him a wink.

"Captain, another shot will finish you. I invite you one last time to surrender."

"'How was your week, Commander Cropper?' 'Oh, not bad, I shot my captain out of the sky.' Well I saved a timeline and the week's not even over. So you can kiss my a-"

He couldn't. It had all but faded away.

"Oh. I wanted to sing myself out with a 20th century song I heard called Johnny B. Goode but my throat's going, literally. So how about some sign language?"

Belinda raised her arm to give them the finger but couldn't: her hand had faded too.

"Aw heck. Just shoot already! Come on, time's a-wastin'!"

Belinda saw the Nemesis firing. It all went blurry.


	7. Heading for the End Credits

The investigator clutched his head as he waited for his blurred vision to sharpen. Just in front of him was a white wall. No, a door. He felt porcelain beneath him and stood up. He pushed open the cubicle door while wondering briefly why he hadn't locked it, noticed the urinals and thanked himself for not being in the ladies', washed his hands and face in the cleanest-looking of the sinks and walked out the lavatory. The constable from earlier was waiting for him.

"You alright, Sir? You're looking a bit spaced out. Must have been a great dum-"

"I was just inspecting. I didn't find anything."

"Well then, I'll show you out and you can get back to your day off. I heard on the grapevine that you've got a hot date tonight!"

He had. Hotter than he deserved, and it wouldn't do to be late. As he thought about her, he started to forget all about the department store and its mysteries, or at least to care a lot less about them. Things were going well and he wanted to convince her, as he'd convinced himself, that they had a future together.

* * *

><p>"Are you alright, chief?"<p>

Christian's face came into focus in front of Sally's. "Yes, I just felt a bit giddy. It's been a long day." Christian did like to fuss. Didn't he realise she wasn't a child? She avoided his gaze and looked around the molyport room.

"If you've finished here, I suggest you call back the night shift and get some sleep. That's what I'm going to do." Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and trotted to the doorway. Then she turned. Christian was standing there saluting. He blinked as she looked at him. "And Christian?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Thanks for-"

Say caring. Thanks for caring.

"-all your hard work. Sleep well." She left the room.

"And you."

* * *

><p>Belinda steadied herself against the wall. She felt very dizzy for a moment; then it passed. "Sorry, it's way past my bedtime! Continue."<p>

Wu Oof looked at Blowhard. "Captain, I... regret my behaviour. You were right to discipline me. I am a better warrior and a better officer for it."

While Blowhard didn't doubt that Wu Oof would say anything to get out of those overalls, she looked and sounded sincere, and smelt like she'd spent more than enough time as a maintenance correctional facilitator engineer.

"Alright, Wu Oof. Get cleaned up, get a good night's sleep and I'll see you in the morning. Back on the bridge, in uniform."

"Thank you, Captain." A humbled, more reflective Wu Oof leaned the pink mop she'd borrowed from Vilma against the wall and headed back to her quarters. Blowhard returned to hers, communed with a hot chocolate and slept. The next morning, she went to the door of another of her bridge crew and knocked.

Cropper opened his door. "Good morning, Captain. Do you need me on the bridge early?" He wasn't due to begin his shift for another fifteen minutes.

"I came to give you this." Blowhard handed Cropper a vidcam. "In future, please submit all your reports to me in vid form so I can digest them more easily. And if you ever misspell my first name with an e instead of an i again, you'll be helping Doctor Striker with his next surgery. A reattachment of my first officer's groi-"

"U-understood, Captain." He turned the vidcam over in his hands. "Can I use it for personal activities too?"

Blowhard rolled her eyes. "Sure, whatever you want. Just don't show me." She hesitated a moment. "Yes, no, just submit the reports and keep the rest to yourself. See you on the bridge."

Blowhard left and Cropper sat on his bed, grinning. Then he furrowed his brow. And thought. And he angled the vidcam and began recording.

"I've decided to keep a personal record of the effects of these increased emotions."


	8. The Bit After the End Credits

With a hearty chuckle, the Oracle turned away from his viewsphere. Alongside the hum of the engine pods, he could hear his servant across the operations chamber, pouting. She'd been much sulkier since she turned 200 and hit puberty. Oh well, she'd be through it in another century or so. The galaxy's best-dressed 2025-year-old arched a hallowed eyebrow at her.

"I sense you have a question, Jill."

"Yes. Why do you keep watching those humans? I thought we left Earth to get away from those fools."

"We left Earth for many reasons. When we've finished our holiday, I shall tell you more." Ah, holiday. The Oracle had already foreseen that the Devlakians would nick all the moonbeds, but Jill would soon move them off. "As for these particular humans..." He turned back towards the image of the Nemesis in his viewsphere. "I find them rather amusing. And besides, they'll be needing us again one day. Isn't that right, daughter of mine?"

On the Nemesis, Vilma twisted her head and looked at the air with superlative puzzlement. She was sure she'd heard a voice, but there was nobody there. How strange. Shrugging, she smiled for no particular reason and skipped off down the corridor.


End file.
